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 |  Impromptu writing, whatever comes...on writing or whatever the question of the day is. |
    I've been blogging all through my days without knowing that it was blogging; although, this isn't necessarily the only thing I do without knowing what I'm doing. Since I write on anything that's available around me, my life has been full of pieces of scribbled paper flying about like confetti. I'm so happy to finally have a permanent place to chew the fat.  So far my chewing the fat is on and off.  Maybe, I lack teeth. Feel free to comment, if you wish.  Thank you very much, Cindy, for this honor and the beautiful graphic.  This Blog Continues in "Everyday Canvas "    |
| Apaches have detailed names and lists for animals and plants and any one land’s topography. Eskimo speech contains several different words for snow’s surface. European languages have two second person pronouns whereas English has one. It is amazing how the language of a group or a nation reflects its culture, especially the part of it that concerns family relationships. Aborigines who are said to have social control through kinship have a long complex vocabulary for kinship terms. It was surprising to me to learn that in some Middle Eastern languages the uncles, aunts, and grandparents were given different names according to their kinship as for being on the mother’s side or on the father’s side. This may mean that the language reflects the structuring of reality pertinent to the group one comes from. This may also mean that linguistic patterns limit sensory perceptions and thinking. The question is: Can we really judge another nation’s realities objectively, if we do not completely understand or know their language well? This line of thought came to me because of the stoning death of a Kurdish girl who fell in love with a man her family did not approve. Now that we are all up in arms over this and the other side takes the defensive approach, how do we close the gap where human rights are concerned? How do we stop the unnecessary bloodshed and unhappiness successfully, without stepping into other people’s bounds? I am thinking maybe language has something to do with it. Maybe those languages need new words and new concepts introduced to them. Take the computer, for example. Every nation understands our basic computer terms, even if they have substituted their versions of those terms. Since computers and most computer terminology can be said to be more tangible--compared to social mores, rites and rituals--this might have been easier. I wonder if we can do that same revolution with the intangibles, those concepts that we could demonstrate and also those we could learn from others. I wonder if we can apply what we did with the computer and internet terms to the solution of human rights problems. Just a thought. |
| With pairs of love bugs (the tiny flies) ending up splattered all over the place but especially on the cars, all the cars around here make South FL as if the place was doused with black rain. For some reason or another, the bugs choose the roads and highways as their mating ground, ruining the finishes on the vehicles as well as losing their lives. This is the way they do their stuff according to Phil Koehler, the urban entomologist at the University of Florida: “"Love Bugs are small flies that are in the process of mating when they swarm over the roads. So usually there are two individuals: the large one is the female and the small one is the male. The female usually gets her way and she drags the male around with her." Smart lady! Even if half of the time they are both flattened on the cars’ windshields and grills… Luckily, this is only seasonal and lasts a few short weeks. Usually, we take this on the chin with patience, but this year with the drought and water restrictions, we can’t even hose the cars down. Florida’s Environment Studies people say the bugs don’t do well during a drought, but someone must have been assessing something wrong, because this year, they are impossible. Controlling them is impossible, too, because one: As beneficial insects, the immature bugs help break down organic matter. And two: No control methods exist. Anything that could control them would kill bees and butterflies also. Anyhow, in our town, houses with the odd numbers can water the lawn or use the hose between 5-7 PM Mondays and Wednesdays, the even numbers get Tuesdays and Thursdays. Since half the population is in their senior years, most forget which day of the week we are on. To be on the safe side, no one on my street waters anything. This was one of the reasons we told ourselves why we took the car to the car wash today. The real reason is sloth. Car wash establishments are exempt from the water restrictions. Luckily this is not the type of carwash place where you sit inside the car as it goes through all that sudsy scrubbing and spraying. $11:99 for full service sounds like a great deal and we usually take the car there. Today, they had a sign up. “Removal of love bugs is $4 extra.” But if you add to it the gas used up while waiting in line for forty-five minutes with the motor running, it becomes a pricey posh job. I was cracking jokes like, “The Arabs must have started these car wash businesses,” but when our turn came and we exited the car, a horde of people who looked as if they were from south of the border dashed through all four doors, vacuuming, dusting, scrubbing. God, they were so hard-working…really. I have half a mind of inviting them to my house. Then, we entered inside the store to pay and to watch from the large glass windows the cars sliding through as they got a thorough cleaning. The store offers a multitude of bric-a-bracs, mostly cutesy stuff, for the car owners. I am not a thing person, because things need dusting and I rather keep the dusting to minimum in my house; however, it was fun watching them as if I was in a museum of sorts while hubby paid up. The car came out perfectly clean. Then, on the way home, it got splattered with love bugs all over again. This time it was WD 40 to the rescue, because that is just about the only thing that takes them out. We can’t leave the remains of the love bugs on the car. They eat into the finish. Did we really need to go to the carwash place if we had to work on the car again? You bet. I enjoyed the whole thing and all the people in the store I made small talk with. |
| I received a Mothers' Day card from an old friend who advised me to do something nice for myself. She says in the card, "Gift yourself a specific time, during which you let go of e-mail and let your voice mail answer any phone calls." Hahahahaha! As nice as she is and as well as this may work for her, not answering my mail or phone would kill me, being the wacky person that I am. Anyhow, most of the time, I don't feel rushed, and when I do, I like the rush. I guess to each her own.This brings me to the advice books that come in nice, neat, little packages with meditations etc. These I believe are money-making gimmicks for their writers, but are not really useful for the public. If they worked, one book or one CD or tape of relaxation would be enough for the entire population. On the other hand, each such book I glimpsed into lately is the boiled over, stale revision of the same idea. I have to say, "Writers, beware! You are turning into the bad reruns on TV." For me, what works is listening to music, or walking on the beach, or because of the storm Andrea's washing out our beaches, walking through a nursery and enjoying the flowers. Then, I like to sit and enjoy a good book, also. And if in the middle of it the phone rings, I can answer that, too. |
| I asked hubby not to get cut flowers for me, because when they die off in a week or so, I feel abandoned. Poor me! So on mothers day, yesterday, he brought two roses bushes instead. I was so happy that I felt I had to put them in the garden right away. Surely, the thorns got me. One may say I deserve it since I don't like garden gloves too much. They have a way of getting in between the soil and me and also the flowers and me.With things I love, I don't want middlemen in between. So while I was trying to get the thorns off the top of my hand, a spider bit me on the arm. I don't know what is with those spiders and me. There may be a thousand people and one spider. The spider will leave 999 people alone, but it'll bite me. They say spiders are ancient animals that go back millions of years and they are useful since they control the insect population. Maybe it took me for an insect or maybe it thought I was as ancient as it, so it didn't want my rivalry. Weird thing is, I didn't feel the sting at first, although I saw the thing scurrying away. Next thing I know, my arm became Popeye's arm without eating the spinach. Luckily, we always have a cortizone cream and Benadryl at hand. Then a friend dropped by with his little daughter in tears. It seems that an alligator ate her pet ducks. Alligators are getting braver around here since we are having a drought and they are looking for other ground, and also, maybe the smoky air from all the fires is making them crazy. Anyway, while looking at the balloon that says "world's greatest mom" floating from the back of my chair, I am glad that my children, too, came to visit with gifts and their precious smiles. I am also glad that at least spiders like me and not alligators. There's always a worse thing that can happen to you. Although it has been an itchy Mothers' Day, I loved it all. It was just like life in general.  |
| Today I wanted to write a book review, but since we have roofers on top of us working on the leftover problem from hurricane Wilma, it will have to wait, because I escaped to the other side of the house, away from my computer on account of the noise on top. I am now writing on the laptop that I take out once in a blue moon, but writing on this one is no fun. We are lucky that the roofers are here again, before the hurricane season starts on June1, or did it already start? Remember Andrea, which has been eating at the coastline? When it comes to roofers, people advise to get three estimates and choose the best one among them. This makes me laugh so hard...After a hurricane, you are lucky if you can get one roofer to come. Our roof, not exactly the one on top of the house but the side roof on the extension, was totally redone after Francis and Jeanne (isn't it something that I am on a first name basis with the hurricanes!) and was refixed after Wilma, but then, we got a few drops of rain coming in inside the porch, in a season where rains are scarce and we have a serious draught to boot. At the moment, the noise is inside the house because the extension's roof has to be reattached to the main roof. Let's hope they leave the main roof intact. When this roofer showed up after calls to several of them in the yellow pages, I think five or maybe seven (Yellow pages because the roofers we used in the past have skipped town), my husband said okay to the price he gave, right away. "Draw up the contract," he said. Even the roofer was surprised. I would have done the same thing though. You don't think about these things. When it comes to roofers, there is no time for contemplation. If you find a roofer around here, you hang on to him for dear life, even if they sell you the Verrazano bridge. Not that I would buy the Verrazano Bridge...For one thing it is too far away from where I live. But then, maybe I could resell it for a week's stay in Marriott Marquis. Hotels in NYC are a hoot. All this noise is getting to my head. I am also annoyed at myself to be hitting two keys at the same time on this laptop. So the review for "Whale Season" and whatever I need to write on a computer has to wait. I think I'll go sharpen my pencils now. |
| Last night I went out to eat at a seaside restaurant with hubby, son, and daughter in-law. Hubby always says I hear everything going on around me and he is right. I can’t help being interested in my surroundings, and when I overheard someone giving a salsa recipe to another person in the next table, I had to write it down. The lady says to start with half a bottle or measure of your favorite salsa and add to it chopped onions, crushed red peppers, basil and garlic seasoning blend, minced garlic, half a carrot, half a red onion, half a bell pepper and half a white onion grated. Stir it together and you’ve got a healthy salsa for Cinco de Mayo. Then don’t forget to use corn chips for dipping. As to Cinco de Mayo, it happened after Mexicans lost the Spanish American war, but declared independence. Since during the war Mexico had incurred war debts to a few European nations, mainly England, France and Spain and was not at the moment to able to pay them back, then Mexican president Benito Juarez declared a moratorium for two years against paying debts. In 1862 the three European countries dispatched their fleets to Mexico to collect what was owed to them in land rights. A Mexican government official met them and explained that Mexico accepted its debts, but at the time was unable to pay them and offered payment warrants in exchange. England and Spain accepted Mexico’s offer, but the good ole’ France, the nation that carries the flag of freedom only in jest, decided to invade Mexico and put a French monarch as the head of state abolishing the newly constituted Mexican Republic. To do that French armies had to cross the state of Puebla to get to the capital of Mexico, Mexico City. Ignacio Zaragoza, as the general, fortified the city of Puebla to repel the well-equipped, powerful French army. Zaragoza led 5000 people with barely working arms and defeated the French on the 5th of May 1862. This victory became the holiday celebrated all over Mexico where each city has its square for the fiesta to animate the people with music, laughter, and vibrant colors. There are mariachi bands, dancing, fooling around, and shows. At Peñón de los Baños, a small barrio in Mexico City, the people organize a representation of the Cinco de Mayo battle. During most of the celebrations “mole” is served. Mole is a popular, thick spicy sauce that comes from blending more than forty ingredients, and is spread on top of turkey or chicken and Mexican style red rice. Going back to the French invasion: Later on, French invaded Mexico and imposed Maximilian of Hapsburg as Mexico’s emperor in 1864. As an ironic turn in the events, Maximilian loved Mexico and valued its liberal party but was executed at the end when the Mexican generals and Benito Juarez took Mexico back. The last words of Maximilian were: "I die in a just cause. I forgive all, and pray that all may forgive me. May my blood flow for the good of this land. Viva Mexico!" Happy Cinco de Mayo to the Mexicans and their American friends! |
| We are having a severe water shortage in Southeast Florida. They say even if we go into the rainy season, which took its time showing up this year, the shortage may continue for a few more years. The few clouds that show up on the radar screens, float out to the ocean. Every day, the weathermen tell us it will rain, but we don't get a drop. Okeechobee Lake that provides water to the area is several feet lower than the drought level and that is scary. It isn't just we don't have enough water that is worrisome. Dry brush and other vegetation catch fire on its own under the hot subtropical sun. A few years ago, in our town, forty plus homes were destroyed. Just yesterday, fire from the everglades burned two homes. Luckily, officials are on the job. We under water restriction laws. Watering the lawns is limited to one day a week for within four hours between 4-8 AM. Yesterday, someone was arrested and put to jail for flicking a burning cigarette on the ground. Burning anything is out. We are not turning on the faucets full blast. Letting the water come threadlike does as much cleaning, anyhow. I started saving the water from washing the produce and giving it to the plants. They say any water we use should go on the ground, so it could seep underground. On the west coast, Tampa has a plant that takes water from the ocean and takes the salt and other impurities out of it for use in the homes. I think those types of plants should start showing up in every coastal city in this state. Although we get the highest amount of rain yearly here, most of it evaporates due to the heat. I remember, about ten years or so ago, we were getting so much rain even sudden showers from a cloud or two that used to emerge abruptly out of the blue sky. The rainy season used to start sometime in March. Now it is May...and nothing. If we get rain, it is like a drizzle, which immediately evaporates. Although subtropics sometimes show inexplicable weather patterns, I am wondering if this year's draught has something to do with the climate change. In the meantime, we are keeping our fingers crossed for a little bit of rain. |
| Yet another man is in trouble for not keeping his mouth shut. “Oh dear tongue, I should cut you in pieces,” my mother used to say when she blurted out something unwittingly. Maybe the venom, if it is venom, should stay inside the mouths, but is that what we really want? I am not going to defend Imus for what he said. Even if it is indefensible, it is one man’s opinion, but what Imus said might be said in jest a la Lenny Bruce. Also, it isn't likely that those college girls will be scarred for life because Imus said what he said. Possibly it was offensive; I can’t tell, since I didn't know what ho or nappy was. We weren't thought these things and I don't listen to those awful rap lyrics either. And who made the rule that greens can utter some words freely as “culture,” while purples cannot mention those? I used to listen to Imus on the radio until a couple of decades ago in New York. The man did not have a racist cell in him, then. I stopped listening to "Imus in the Morning" when we moved away. Later, I saw him a few times on the morning TV briefly, but what I heard was bitter and nasty. So I stopped. Lots of people say lots of nasty things on the airways. What Imus said could have been ugly and distasteful. The man has gained a nasty aura lately anyhow. While similar things have been spilling out of him for years as he cantankerously attacked people right and left, why do we assail Imus now for this one thing? Whether Imus said whatever he said knowingly or not, I think the matter is overblown. There was no need to make this the event of the century like the way it was done to a police officer because of one politically incorrect word in the OJ Simpson trial, which resulted in an unjust court decision. What really makes me question the motives is, when we have so many problems lurking over our heads, why so much importance had to be given to this. Also, I worry about silencing people. What will be next? Shall we start jailing the news reporters as in third world countries? Or maybe we are already doing that. |
| Our insurance company of more than forty years just dropped us cold. They did it with a simple memo. In New York and in Florida, we have had all our insurances including umbrella insurance with them. The company is AllState. They did this after a hurricane-free year when the legislators of the state started trying to find ways of reducing insurance costs; one of the suggested methods is putting mandates on the insurance companies. I don’t know whether to blame the legislators, the company, or the weather. I can’t fault the weather. Weather always acts up one way or another over each place on earth. State legislators will always act dumb. The companies will always want to make much more money than they hand out. This means all three have been acting according to what their nature intends them to act. They can’t be faulted. That leaves us the residents of the state. Yes, I knew it all along; we are to blame. We are to blame for existing. And our insurance will stop at exactly June1, the start of the hurricane season. Very convenient. My husband says to forget the insurance companies; we can’t go around begging door to door. So few companies in Florida with so high premiums... We have always paid our dues on time; we have been loyal to one company for a very long time; and we never asked for more than what they wanted to pay when there was damage. Hubby says we’ll leave it to luck and shoulder the costs ourselves. I wonder what the insurance companies would do if everyone stopped dropping the idea of insurance. Just a thought. |
| Remember the old-time ushers who wore double-breasted jackets usually reddish in color with brass buttons in the early movie theaters? Well, I did this morning, while I was holding a flashlight into the oven while changing its light bulb. When the flashlight zipped and zapped back and forth, I remembered the old ushers seeing people to their seats. That made me recall the theaters with sconced walls with thick red carpets, gilt arches, cherub paintings on the ceilings and splendid chandeliers. Usually there would be a thick red velvet double-sided curtain hiding the white screen behind it. When the velvet curtains were pulled to the sides, in the earlier years by two stage hands and later mechanically, we knew the shorts were about to start to be followed by the main feature film. People, then, started hushing up and returning to their seats. The small town movie houses may not have been as spectacular as their city cousins, but still they flaunted plush interiors with fountains, carpeted staircases, murals on the walls, fancy lighting fixtures and popcorn and candy machines. All these theaters had marquees outside that embellished the feature film’s title with colorful lights. They also had balconies and loges. If you lived in a small town you could see who attended the crowded Saturday evening show or the less crowded matinee. Small talk or gossip was the fare of the day, and I remember my mother taking special care with her appearance. People talked, you know… Despite the gossip, going to the movies was a delight and a community affair. If you heard some subdued whispering or a few grating sounds, you just paid no attention to it. If the distracting noise got out of hand, someone was sure to turn around and say in an annoyed tone, “Shhhhh!” And changing an appliance bulb brought back all these magical things. Silly me! |
In our human affairs of late, there are no paper records anymore. Computers are used in all aspects of running our lives. Old books use languages that are passé and difficult to understand. Not only that but also, everything about them seems to have changed. Now is that so bad? I still use pencil and paper sometimes, but I write better on the computer and I am so happy word processing has been invented. It had taken me months, several decades ago, to put up an index for a book, using three by five cards and several notebooks. Nowadays, I can do the same thing in a few hours with the proper computer program. I am an oldie, but I couldn’t do without my computer and I always view the newest things or ideas with a welcoming attitude. Maybe because of that, whenever someone tells me old was better, depending on what they are talking about, I sometimes wonder about their minds. For example, when somebody points to a hundred fifty year-old book, telling me what it says about style, syntax, and definitions of literary terms are truer than what we have today, his or her words scare me. For one simple reason: according to linguists, language is a living thing; therefore, it changes. Together with the language, other things also change. True, there are some good, old things. Old wines for instance and antique knick knacks, maybe. The idea that we have old as history is good, because history is a witness that we have lived, and that is what old is: history and just that. There is so much to be built and maintained in our lives. What we build must last for a long time without total rebuilding. This requires new thinking and new ways of organizing development. So the new comes up with better and more workable things, ideas, and institutions. I should know about the old. I lived through old times, old assessments, and old prejudices. One of the good things I found about old is that old cannot control the new and the new has to take over the old. That I found to be the best thing about the old. All this because someone quoted from a very old book, telling me the info in it was "truer." |
| First of all, let me say that I think YouTube is a great invention whose time had come. It is mostly enjoyable and it gives a chance to video-taping amateurs to show their work. On the other hand, since some streets and schools have already become battleground with gang violence and unruly people, disturbing videos on YouTube seem to add applause to the turmoil. Wouldn't it be great if the YouTube people could put some kind of a rating system like what we have in WC? This wouldn't curtail the video-makers' activities at all. Those who want to watch the disturbing videos could still do so, while the general public and especially children would not be subjected to material destructive for their psyches. Some newspapers have published a story about an alarming development. In the story, teen gang members post photos posing with guns and boast of their talents in drug sales. There are other disturbing videos on YouTube showing teens fighting with hand-made signs at bus stops or showing other real or staged drive-by shootings and street brawls. All these things signal to the teens that acting like hoodlums is cool, whether they are part of a gang or not. We could say the other social sites for teens promote this kind of understanding also, but photos and videos are more impressive because they are visual, and visual stimuli have more of a coercing power for the mind. Lots of kids are happier with more wholesome activities, but with this pressure from the net, the media, and their peers can influence them the wrong way and make them adhere with what is popular. Those who have studied gang behavior claim that the glamorization of the hooligan lifestyle has such a strong magnetism that even those who just “try” it cannot pull themselves together afterwards. With many children who are already in trouble, everyone from the net to the media should be careful what they make available to such young and impressionable people. I’m all for the first amendment and the total freedom for arts, but I also think the young people should be protected; if not, our entire civilization, as we know it, can be put in jeopardy. |
| “Which is better? Plan and act consciously, or let events take care of themselves?” Sometimes living follows a natural path through its journey of motion and pulls itself back again for a rest. Some insignificant thing on the spur of the moment seems to facilitate the journey. Sometimes another insignificant thing seems to slow it down. Also, sometimes, even though you think you are traveling fast, it does not necessarily mean you are on the right road. Then, you may get hurt or you may hurt yourself, because you are bound to get hurt or wounded on the way. Sometimes it will be your own shoes that get tight and hurt you; at other times, it will be stones hurled at you from the wayside. So, either planned or unplanned, you stop and search for a treatment to heal yourself. Finding cures may become a job, too. Some cures act like Bandaids. They keep the mind clean and clear for a period. But your wound, without access to air, may not totally heal. Even the tiniest wounds need oxygen; they need airing. They also need protection from the dirt and bacteria that may attack as if from nowhere. So you do the best you can and keep moving, because standing on the side of the road, worrying about your wounds will not get you to your destination. If someone watches out for you, there might be flowers on the path you travel. The trick is not to step on those flowers in the dark. Flowers are delicate beings to be appreciated and enjoyed. What if the path is too fast and it needs someone traveling with the speed of light? And you are not a fast walker? How do you walk on a path that moves faster than you? Remember those moving walkways in the airports? Remember how some people try to walk on them, carrying heavy bags? Then, do you remember how others stay on the right side and just let the road take them wherever? It might not be fast, but if you stay on the right side, the road will get you to your destination. If you get off a moving road, it is a long walk. If you try to walk on a moving road, you may seem to travel faster, but your effort will take a toll on your health and may cause serious injuries. You would not like to stop at midway, due to injuries, do you? So then, maybe it is better to just stop and stay on the right side of the road when the road, on its own, moves too fast for you, and then, start walking when the road stands there motionless for you to take it. |
| "I never knew dying could be so much fun," Art Buchwald, the column writer, wrote last year. Last February, his doctors told Buchwald because of his kidney problems, he had a few weeks to live. At age 80, Buchwald didn't want to be hooked up to a dialysis machine for the rest of his life. So he checked into a hospice to die on his own terms. Then something unexpected happened. He didn't die and his kidneys kept working. He left the hospice and went back to his home on Martha's Vineyard to enjoy his time left. “No one wants to die, but if you were faced with a terminal illness, you would probably pick the way that columnist Art Buchwald died - not by his own hand, but in the way and place he chose. Then, he started writing again, and the book, "Too Soon to Say Goodbye," came out of this experience. He still passed away from the same affliction about a month and a half ago. Art Buchwald did not opt to kill himself, because he didn’t have the legal right to do so, but he still chose the way he died and was able to spend his final days in an atmosphere of comfort, compassion, control and respect. The argument is if the pain of the final days are too much to bear, a person ought to be able to choose the time and method of his dying. Oregon has laws for that. Oregon's experience with its death with dignity law is instructive. Before it was enacted in 1998, only about 20 percent of terminally ill patients sought hospice care. Today, 54 percent do. I can see how this idea could be abused, but the death-with-dignity option can be available only to those who want it and meet the qualifications. Few will likely use it anyhow. In other words, the goal of the death with dignity legislation is not just giving terminally ill patients a way to kill themselves. It's also about better pain management and greater access to hospice care, so that patients can be comfortable in their final days. It's also about giving the terminally ill the peace of mind of knowing that an early exit is available if the suffering becomes too much. After having written this much in favor of the idea, if push came to shove and I'd have to make a choice, I would probably let nature take its course, because for some of us, some beliefs are so nailed in that getting around them may become a trauma. I think I'd still go with "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." Now, how's that for the paradox of the mind and the heart! |
| My son G. just adopted three year-old a chow mix from the North Shore Animal League. I was so delighted when the lady called me to check up on his information. I am glad they care about who the owners are and if the pet will be cared for. Although we live in Florida and our son lives in Long Island, I am delighted he has a pet. Just the news of the dog made me deliriously happy. When we lived all together more than a decade and a half ago, our New Foundland Joe had become my son’s best friend. After the dog died and we moved away, he was hesitant to get another pet, because he was working too many hours. His schedule is better now; so I guess he believes he can keep a dog. Funny thing is, I am dying to see the dog. He says he’ll send pictures, but he doesn’t want to make the dog too nervous by clicking the camera just yet. My son says the dog is already attached to him and follows him all around the place. This doggie news brings lots of memories. When we had Joe and the kids got out of hand, I would tell them that the dog told me this or that, like time to go to bed. Since I was the only one (!) who could talk to the dog and my children were so innocent, I got away with this whopper for quite a while. Even after they caught on to me, the kids enjoyed the memory of Joe’s conversations. The deceit of Joe’s talk-ability never hurt my standing at all. Santa, on the other hand, was not as lucky. Talking about talking to animals, I believe--even if they do not understand our exact words--they do understand us, especially if we let ourselves move into their energy and move along with them. Someone I once met who worked at a shelter had told me the same dog or cat who would not go along with one family and would end up getting returned would adapt perfectly with another family. Maybe pets, too, have character traits that can be matched with the owners. Something very personal happens between me and most dogs I meet. The same thing is true of G.; yet, my husband and my other son are different. They sometimes say, “It is just an animal.” Well, I know that. Just my heart doesn’t. While I am writing this, I thought of telling my son to put a micro chip on the dog. If something happens to the dog, G. will fall apart and so shall I, even without meeting the dog. If I ever get grandchildren, I’ll love them, I’m sure; although, I have a feeling I am saying I’ll love them out of social responsibility. Right now, where grandpets are concerned I turn to jelly more. Long live my new grandpet, Raven! |
| We writers run out of ideas because we get bored by what is around us. What is around us can become so familiar that it feels dull and commonplace. A writer, however, does not need to get on a plane or visit a foreign country to clear his head and help him focus him attention on a spectacular subject. His subject is usually around him, within walking distance, and sometimes not even that. One’s home, his neighborhood, the people and the stuff they're trying to sell in garage sales can definitely make a writer come up with a myriad of ideas. There are millions of stories in what people pick up and keep as trinkets throughout their lives. Try a white elephant sale, a county fair, or a local festival. You may end up feeling as if you knew the personal habits and longings of the people simply by the possessions they keep or try to sell. These types of activities happen every weekend and right close by. All of these local gems are treasure-troves for ideas. Not only do they make our imaginations work, they give us insights into the characters we meet. Also, getting our feet wet in something new makes us humble and that humility keeps us open to new information and this makes us creative. Feeling like we’ve seen everything means we've run out of ideas. As writers, we must accept more stuff is nearby to generate fresh perspectives and story opportunities for us. And all this heehawing is because I am trying to psych myself up for the St. Lucie County Fair this weekend. You can tell I don't like crowds, unless I get to watch them from a safe distance. |
| I can't believe what I just read. http://news.aol.com/topnews/articles/_a/some-fake-fur-has-dog-hair-group-says/20... I am letting the article speak for itself. I never liked fur; I don't wear fur; and I am jumpy already with Comcast doing a number on our connection. And I can't believe I am ranting like this. Some day I'll look back and laugh at me for ranting. In the meantime, I am ranting. |
| We were at a wonderful luncheon today at my favorite restaurant with some nice people, though they are not necessarily the friends we usually hang out with. Everything was perfect; except, at one point, the conversation made me nervous, because these very knowledgeable people I was with started talking about fashion. Fashion is one of my least favorite subjects and I was just about to slide under the table when a thought  occurred that I could use these bits of conversation in fiction. Unfortunately, I couldn’t write them down, but concentrated hard so I would remember later. What I remember is bits and pieces, but something is better than nothing.“I hate it when people wear boots with cropped pants!” “I don’t like Macy’s, do you?” “I always go to…(the name of a boutique) …across from the Marriott’s resort.” “After I invested in several prints, Emilio Pucci got rid of them. I never win!” “Big puffy jackets are in, they say.” “I heard cropped jackets and leather bombers, didn’t you?” (I wondered where any one of them would wear those things in Florida.) “Bulgari has a new set of jewelry. I loved it. They look so old fashioned.” (At this point, one of the husbands looked at my husband and said, “Oh, oh!” Hubby laughed smugly. He knows I’m no threat.) A remark directed to me, “Sweetie, you should write something on fashion. It would sell like hotcakes.” At this point, hubby ventured to explain my writing philosophy, but I hushed him and said, “I may…now.” So here I am. Really nice people and I did enjoy them because they were so different, but darn, I won’t eat out with them again. Runway talk makes me itchy. |
| It seems wild honeybees are disappearing and they are dying off somewhere away from their hives. Honeybees are important to crops. It is said one out of three things we eat is pollinated by honeybees, the only crops pollinated by the wind being wheat and corn. The disappearance of the bees has been going on for about two years now. It was first thought that a mite from Southeast Asia was killing them off, but now no one is sure. Flowers have been disappearing with the honeybees as well. But it is not only the honeybees; other pollinator flies are lessening in number also. Moreover, this is not just one country's problem; it seems to be a worldwide thing, although the problem is mostly noted in US and Europe. Beekeepers are stumped. They are losing armies and armies of bees without any bee bodies around. The losses are in billions. This malady now has an acronym and a name: CCD or the Colony Collapse Disorder. The disappearance of the bees has encouraged several theories, most of them not totally explainable. One of the plausable theories is by the Russian scientists who say, ""Bursts of magnetic fields induce jumps of misdirection in bees by a mechanism of magnetic resonance." Yet, it is also suggested that the Russians are using their mind-control techniques on the bees to weaken the western world. If they were so great with mind control, wouldn't they use it on the Chechens first? While this thing is sounding more and more like Dean Koontz novel to me, I would hate to see the flowers gone. Imagine a world without flowers, although we are not there yet. On the other hand, let the scientists worry about this Colony Collapse Disorder for the time being, but to writers this event may be a boon. Story weavers among us, just imagine what a great storyline can be constructed from this scientific fact, although it would need quite a bit of research. Anyone up for it?  |
| Truth is we ran away to Florida in 1992 because we did not want to shovel snow on a 300 feet driveway in winter, and also, did not want to rake leaves in a very large yard with 200+ oak trees in fall. Still the memory of it all haunts me as if it was the greatest thing we ever did. Not only the memory of where I lived but the memory of where I visited in the northeast comes back with every news story. When I heard of the ten to twelve feet snow in upstate NY, I remembered Saratoga Springs. Someone called that city the spa of the Northeast, I don't know why. Is it because of the horses? Horses in a spa? Doesn't make sense. Still, I wonder now, how the town looks under all that snow. I remember people hosing the mud-caked horses in front of the clubhouse after a race. I am not a horse person, so I don't know what they do with horses in the cold, since the stables look quite drafty. Someone told me they put heaters here and there and blanket the horses. But what if all that snow got into the stables? Then, I wonder if the kids still put up lemonade stands on the sidewalks; although, this has nothing to do with the snow. We went there in summer and also in fall when the lemonade stands and restaurant-waiters who claimed their apple pies were the best in town were a reality. I bet the apple-pie thing is still on, but do the kids nowadays put up lemonade stands and become paper carriers? So many things in our culture change over the years... But all snow? Unbelievable! Another thing that shocks is how cold it got where I live. South Florida, this time of the year, is warm. The temperature is usually in the eighties. For the last two or three days, however, we are freezing. Right now in the morning, it is 37 degrees and sunny; the weatherman says we'll see 65 in the afternoon. When we say frigid sixties here, everyone laughs, but the houses must be built differently in FL; they are difficult to heat. Our cooling system is working non-stop now as the heating system, which doesn't do much for allergy sufferers, because the system heats up the pollen accumulated on the same wires used for air-conditioning. Still, shoveling the snow scares me more. Then, imagine 10 feet! |
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